Evil Ice Cream Truck Driver

“What flavor you want, ma’am?” I ask. “I’ll take an ice cream sandwich.” “Those, yeah. We got some,” I say, darting my eyes either way and licking my lips on the sly. “Doin’ this as a full-time job, dude?” the woman asks. Heat races through my face, and my palms turn cold to the touch. Think

Bruised and Broken

Molecules vibrate, closing in on my skin, expanding their distance between love and pain, yanking at my vocal cords. I form I hate you with my lips, but the words refuse to see the light of day. Despair drips, like a Chinese torture technique, flooding my wherewithal to put together sentences, much less rational thoughts. I’d articulated she’d leave last

Mom Hates Me, So I’m On My Own

“Thought ahead, didn’t ya?” Ben mocked. “After you graduate, you’re someone else’s problem,” Janice said. “We’re not going to take care of you for free.” “You sure put on a show before the caseworker.” Jenna’s brows drew close and she threw her hands to her mouth. Ben said it was bad, but I didn’t realize